


underwater earthquake

by wakandawinterprincess



Category: Avengers (Comics), Black Panther (2018), Black Panther (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anyways, F/M, also i wanna see shuri grow tf up and become a badass ffs, and bc im trash and love a good enemies to lovers dynamic, based on the speculation that namor will be in bp2, girl makes WEAPONS and tech she deserves to have a real plot!, read the other snippet first for some context, winterprincess is in the background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:02:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22230769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wakandawinterprincess/pseuds/wakandawinterprincess
Summary: Shuri and Namor have a private conversation amidst a growing conflict between Wakanda and Atlantis. Things do not go even remotely as planned.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Shuri, James "Bucky" Barnes/Shuri, Namor/Shuri, Shuri/Namor
Comments: 39
Kudos: 50





	1. underwater earthquake

**Author's Note:**

> Please read [this snippet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17243441/chapters/50318381) for some context first, please and thanks:
> 
> Also, I only know Namor based on stuff I've seen on my dash + a quick scan of Wiki so bear that in mind. A girl likes some artistic liberties.
> 
> Shuri's characterization here is definitely more based on her older comics version, here. I hope they throw that in by the time we see her in BP2 (at which point she's gonna be like 23/24, so like... honestly, let's move past the kiddie-genius phase ffs. We have Peter Parker for that, lol.)

Shuri had contemplated the many ways her private meeting with Namor might go. But never, not in a _million_ years, would she have expected his very first question to be -- 

“Is he your lover?”

She nearly spits out the sip of water she’d just taken. _What the hell?_

“I’m sorry?” she sputters, wondering, _truly_ , if she’d actually just misheard him.

“The man. With the metal arm. Is he your lover?” Namor repeats, sounding completely and utterly nonchalant.

And then, perhaps in way of explanation, not that she really needed one -- “You looked back at him quite frequently during our little meeting with T’Challa and the council. I don’t know if _he_ noticed, princess, but _I_ certainly did.”

Namor is trying to get in her head, surely. Or maybe her unresolved feelings have just become too damn _obvious_. Both thoughts are wildly unsettling, and frankly, she doesn’t want to entertain either.

“He’s _not_ my lover. Don’t try to change the topic.”

“Ah.” Namor tsks, almost in sympathy. “Just an _acquaintance_ , then?”

“A _friend_.” Shuri says firmly, hoping that will shut him up for good.

(She guessed wrong, of course.)

“That’s a real pity, Shuri. Does he know just _what_ he’s missing out on?”

The sultry tone of his words catches her off guard, and there it is again -- that _look_ she’d seen from him once before. There’s something hungry, almost _feral_ in his dark eyes, in the naked desire she can see there. 

It should scare her, actually. So why does it simply make her want to draw _closer_ still?

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Namor.” she manages, hoping she sounds passably stern and unaffected.

“Sincerity is my one virtue, your highness.” he quips back, clearly not taking the hint. _Damn him_.

“And besides...” he continues, “it got me here, alone with you, didn’t it?”

His choice of words gives her pause. Shuri raises a brow. 

“You think that was by _design_?”

"I do." he says, and now he can’t hide the _oh-so-cocky_ smirk spreading across his face. 

( _Bast_ , she hates it.)

“What are you implying?” she snaps, irritation on full display now. It’s not diplomatic in the slightest, but she doesn’t _care_ \-- if he thinks he can continue this meeting with innuendos and half-meanings, he has another thing coming.

As before, Namor meets her eyes, completely unflinching in the face of her anger.

“You could have brought your guards.” he points out. “But you _didn’t_.”

Ah. Now _this_ makes more sense.

He thinks he’s got her trapped, she muses. Vulnerable, even. If only he knew that nothing about this situation could be _further_ from the truth.

(Her mind flashes briefly, then, to the vibranium bracelet she's wearing on her sleeve, the sharp panther claws that can protrude at a moment's notice if she mentally commands it.)

“Are you going to hurt me, Namor?” she asks, letting her voice falter just enough to hopefully make him _think_ he’s got the upper hand, here. 

(Men are nothing if not predictable, after all.)

He gives her a wicked grin at her question. It’s all teeth, like the mere _idea_ of such a thing somehow amuses him.

“No.” he murmurs. “That I _won’t_ do, princess.”

“But...” and he draws closer, now, eyes flashing with sudden challenge, “...you _like_ the danger, don’t you?” 

Shuri takes a step back, then. Feels the back of her legs hit the side of her desk, and tries desperately not to wince in pain. This is a _game_ to him, after all, and she’s still playing to win. Nevertheless, she steels herself mentally for something more... confrontational, perhaps. 

Anything is possible with this one. She’s known that from the first time she met him. 

But just like that, the air in the room shifts. She sees something soften in his eyes, like he’s quietly assessing her, and the look that comes over his face -- _where_ has she seen that look before?

“Or maybe it’s not _danger_ you see at all, princess.” he murmurs, and his voice is almost _gentler_ now, if that’s even possible. 

He continues.

“That day we first met, on the shore -- I _knew_ then that you were intrigued by me, just as I’m taken by you.”

There’s a familiar, earnest _sincerity_ to his voice, then. It’s a fact that makes her heart practically jump out of her chest, as does her _next_ damning realization, looking into his face now --

Namor looks _just_ _like_ _him_. 

He’s got every _damn_ thing going for him -- the long, dark hair, the handsome, brooding features. The same muted, rough intensity, just bubbling under the surface -- just like a one _James Barnes_. Fuck.

But he’s got inky black eyes where Bucky’s blue ones were, with a darkness that looks like it just might go on forever. And that singular reminder that _no_ , Namor isn’t _him_ , no matter how much he might _look_ like him, sends an ominous shiver down her spine. 

_Focus._

It’s incredibly hard, because he’s stepped into her space, now, and she doesn’t know how long she can hold her ground or hold him off, or both.

The truth is, Namor’s right -- the first time she’d met him, she’d been drawn to him, for reasons she didn’t truly understand, at _all_. 

He was so many seeming contradictions -- of this world, but also not. Serious and reserved, but also wonderfully lighthearted and _remarkably_ clever. Powerful beyond imagination -- she’d seen the way he’d practically made the waves tremble before him -- but gentle enough to convince her that he was little more than a charming vagrant, a passing tourist with a penchant for the water and all its beings. 

It was hard to make anything of him, truly. Shuri hadn’t known, back then, that he was a royal, let alone an Atlantean king. But for _once_ in her life, she hadn’t really cared to try to figure him out. 

Maybe he was meant to be nothing more than a handsome stranger she’d accidentally spent a single afternoon away from her lab and her royal duties with. But in a post-Blip world that now involved half-truths and so many things unspoken, of never knowing where she stood with _anyone_ , even those closest to her -- well, in light of all that, his presence seemed a soothing balm. Pretending that she _wasn’t_ a princess for a day, but another passing stranger in town, had just been an added bonus.

And yet -- despite all the fragrances of their first meeting, all the jokes and evaded answers, there was something _magnetic_ between them. It seems almost idyllic to her, now.

See -- what she _hadn’t_ known, that day by the water, was that the man she had met would become such a serious threat to her kingdom, to everyone she loved. That the earthquakes beneath Wakanda, just weeks later, would be of _his_ doing. That his seeming beef with all creatures of the land would start with a direct challenge to her _brother_ , no less.

So she makes her decision, then. Whatever she’d thought of him that day -- it was all in the past. And it needed to be left there.

It’s time to end this ... _flirtation_ , or _seduction_ , or whatever the _hell_ Namor thought he was doing. 

No claws necessary, here. Shuri has another way out.

“You think pretty highly of yourself, don’t you?” she challenges, and she steps forward into _his_ space, now. “Who says I’m ‘intrigued’ by you, or anything near it?”

For the first time, Shuri sees his jaw tense, sees _him_ step back. Like he’s _actually_ annoyed by her words -- _angry_ , even. 

And she feels the tiniest bit guilty, then. Because that must mean that what he’d said earlier, about being taken with her, was perhaps just a _little bit_ sincere.

(Which is a strange and _terrifying_ thing to think about.)

But before she can linger on it for much longer he continues -- 

"It’s not about what someone _says_ , princess.” he mutters, frame now turned away slightly from her, and she finally catches the smallest tinge of frustration in his voice. “It’s something far more _subtle_ , something you creatures of the land simply don’t understand.”

Ah. There it is, again. That self-aggrandizing behavior she'd seen with the council, back on full display. Now she knows _exactly_ where to go with this ruse.

“ _Really_ ? And what’s _that,_ hmmm?”

(She lets the mockery bleed into her words freely now, because she’s supposed to be riling him up, pissing him off, and _damn_ if she won’t do a _great_ fucking job of it.)

Namor turns to face her fully now, and the movement is so _sudden_ and so _sharp_ that she nearly gasps from surprise, because she truly hadn’t expected _this_ to be his reaction. And as he looks at her now, using her surprise to tease out what he couldn’t see before, she _knows_ \-- he sees right through her whole damn act. Specifically, _that_ it’s an act.

He’s played her at her own game and beaten her at it, too. Feigned irritation to make her _think_ she could get him to slip up, then ripped it all down with one sharp gaze, one that makes her freeze on the spot.

“It’s not about what someone says, or _pretends_ to say,” he murmurs, and she doesn’t miss the way he drags his voice over the word, rubbing it in that he’s _caught_ her, mid-act. “It’s about observing and listening to everything _else_ , princess.”

“It’s about all the things left unsaid. _Feelings_ . _Desire_.” 

He edges closer still, and she catches the saline scent of the ocean. “ _Instinct_ , even.”

Shuri meets his eyes. Doesn’t let herself falter, no matter how _badly_ she wants to. He continues.

“ _Instinct_ is all it is, really. It always points you to what someone _wants_ , Shuri,” and more so than the first use of her name, she’s thrown by the way that he _looks_ at her, like he just _knows._

How could he _possibly_ know?

“You _don’t_ know what I want,” she protests, but the words ring hollow, spoken more to convince herself than him. It’s a bare-faced lie too, she realizes, even though the dizzying proximity of his frame in front of hers has her weak in her knees. Tells her she knows _exactly_ what she wants. What she’s wanted for a long time, really.

“ Don’t I ?” he murmurs, and he’s closer now, _much_ closer, _when did she let him get so close_ , anyways?

He leans down to whisper in her ear. They’ve lost propriety a long time ago, it seems.

“I think I know what you _want_ , princess. Or perhaps, what you _need_.”

“Enlighten me.” she challenges, and if they’re playing their best cards now ... well, she hopes to Bast he’s wrong, though every last sensation running through her body says otherwise.

“You need someone in your life who doesn’t hedge his feelings. Who _knows_ what he wants -- and who can take it, too.”

Shuri _knows_ she shouldn’t ask the next question that slips out of her mouth. 

But she _does_ , anyways.

“And what is it that _you_ want, Namor?” she whispers.

He fixes her with a look that sends an unmistakable _heat_ to her very core.

“ _This._ ” he rasps, and then he kisses her.

For a moment, she’s frozen in place. The sensation of his mouth on hers is like crashing into a wave head-on, in all of its frenzied strength and power.

He’s strong as hell, and maybe he’d surprised her, but that’s _not_ why she doesn’t pull away.

No, instead she kisses him _back_ . Lets herself get swept away in it all, if just for a few stolen moments -- in the knowledge that he _wants_ her the way she wants him. In the way she’s always wanted to be desired -- not as a precocious genius princess, not as an all-powerful monarch, but as a real _woman_. 

The sensation is something she’s never experienced before -- there’s something raw and carnal and _real_ there, as he takes what he wants from her in a way no one else has ever dared to.

Namor wraps a strong arm around her waist, then, pulling an embarrassing little noise from the back of her throat. She tugs at his hair in retaliation and he rewards her for it, kisses her deeper, _harder_ , until she’s moaning shamelessly from the sheer _want_ of it all. 

It’s not until he pushes her back onto her own desk, pushes one knee to gently nudge her legs apart that she finally _snaps the fuck out of it._

This man is a threat to her country, to everything she’s ever known or cared about. She is just a prize to him, a glittering crown jewel to seize, a trophy to win. That’s all.

There’s another sharp pain in her chest, as she realizing she’s betraying everyone she cares about in the _worst_ way possible. 

(Betraying her loyal protector, one who likely doesn’t even reciprocate her feelings.)

It doesn’t matter. That’s _enough._

With whatever strength she can muster, she pushes Namor off her. As forcefully as he’d kissed her before, he now steps back with disarming ease.

Despite that -- Shuri’s breathing hard. Tries to process what just happened.

“What the _hell_ \-- I -- you _shouldn’t_ have done that!” she snaps, but the too-late protest sounds pitiful to her own ears.

That and, well, words aren’t quite functioning properly for her, just yet. _Shit_.

He laughs at that. Shuri hates that it gets under her skin.

“I see you still don’t understand, princess -- I _always_ get what I want. Though, it seems to me that you wanted it, too.” And if he doesn’t fucking _wink_ at her, well, it’s a close call as it were.

She seethes. Makes her decision, in an instant -- 

“Get. _Out_.”

The words come out as a command. He looks unaffected, still.

“I take you don’t want to talk anymore, do you?” he offers, and Shuri resists the urge to jump at him with her claws out. No, she won’t give him the damn satisfaction.

“Hmm.” She lets him hear the sarcasm dripping off her words, for real this time. “I don’t think so, no.”

“So when will I see you again, princess?”, and now he frowns, as if he’s genuinely concerned. 

Ha. As _if_.

She pushes forward.

“On the battlefield. For your sake, I hope you’re ready for Wakanda’s wrath. For _mine_.”

Shuri straightens her dress. Walks across the room to open the door, to let him go. Ignores the look on his face, because she’s made up her mind, now.

He moves to leave, and she avoids looking at him. He’s almost out the door when she adds one final jab -- 

“Until then, Namor.”

There’s a long pause, then. The empty space between them stretches out for what feels like an eternity. And she’ll be _damned_ if he doesn’t sound the slightest bit little wistful before he replies--

“Until then, princess.”


	2. seismic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just something I banged out real quick for @stephanythedramaqueen
> 
> Is it a part of the same verse? Tentatively, yes? I don’t know. This is mostly pretty self-serving lmao, and that last chapter opened up a whole realm of possibilities TBH. Where would one even go from there... that’s the real question. 🧐
> 
> Bucky’s POV.

The end of the Wakandan-Atlantean war  _ should _ mean everything’s back to normal. 

(Well, as normal as things could be, after nearly getting destroyed by a man with the power to sink a continent.)

Peace is finally on the table, now. Practically within their reach. 

Still -- this isn’t the end. Something else is coming. Bucky can just  _ feel _ it.

But there’s nothing to do now, except wait for the tremors to pass.

* * *

In the end, they all gather at the World Security Council and sign the papers. Namor rolls his eyes, even yawns during the (admittedly lengthy) process. 

But he signs anyways. Never again will he or any of his citizens threaten land-dwellers. Or so he claims.

(Bucky’s not sure Namor’s word is good for anything. But then again, with his status as assassin-turned-runaway-turned-refugee, his word doesn’t mean too much to officials at the United Nations, anyways.)

* * *

Afterwards, there’s a ball. Diplomats and dignitaries who had nothing to do with any of this, but are celebrating and taking the credit anyways. Taking the limelight from the person who  _ really _ deserves it, but Bucky knows she doesn’t mind. 

_ Shuri _ .

She walks down the steps of the ballroom about twenty minutes late, and when he finally sees her his jaw nearly drops.

She looks radiant, as she always does, but there’s so much  _ more _ there. Dressed in red, she looks like she’s fully come into her own. Powerful, elegant,  _ strong _ . As he’s always known her to be.

This treaty was  _ her _ victory. She deserves this moment.

Shuri’s gaze meets his, and if she’s noticed his dumbstruck look of awe, she’s kind enough to just grin at him. And as she walks down towards him, he can’t help the painful feeling that bubbles in his chest. The knowledge that she’s so  _ close _ , but still so far.

She shatters that pain with a gentle laugh, as she always does. Leans in close to hug him, and he allows himself that moment of indulgence. Wraps a metal arm --  _ her _ arm -- around her waist.

“Will you dance with me, Soldier?” she asks quietly, and when she pulls back, there’s a look on her face that he can’t describe.

He fumbles. Thinks of a not-quite-right excuse, because his willpower is at its bottom and he can’t hold her in his arms right now without thinking of what  _ could _ be. Doesn’t trust himself, really.

“I have to run interference with Okoye, I was just on my way out.” 

A pause. 

“But there are lots of nobles here with their eye on you, so ... maybe later.”

“Yeah.” she murmurs, pulling away from their embrace. And he hopes he’s wrong, but in that instant she looks crestfallen. 

“Maybe later.”

* * *

He spends the rest of the night avoiding her, while also keeping a watchful eye on her. 

(Or rather, on the too-friendly diplomats, who might feel entitled to her space, her light.)

He was her bodyguard once, after all. Old habits die hard. 

Or so he’d like to believe.

* * *

She slips out far earlier than he’d expected. There’s a good two hours left, but she looks weary and a little sad, but maybe he’s imagining the latter.

It’s unusual, given how much she enjoys these types of events, but it’s been a long week. She needs time alone to recharge sometimes, he’s learned. He’ll check up on her a bit later, make sure she’s ok.

And perhaps, ordinarily, he would have left it at that, but then he notices that someone else follows her out of the room.  _ Namor _ .

Bucky  _ knows _ \-- he shouldn’t follow her. Them.  _ Whatever _ .

She’s a grown adult, hardly the precocious genius of the past. Shuri can handle herself, the herb flowing through her veins, and Namor is no longer a danger to any of them.

But he doesn’t trust Namor, any more than he trusts himself. For the same reasons, actually.

So after another beat, he slips quietly after them.

* * *

Shuri picks a quiet, small library to settle into. The room is dark, no -- it’s  _ completely _ deserted. 

Bucky wonders, off-handedly, who left the door ajar in the first place (security means jack-shit, apparently), but his thoughts are interrupted when he sees Namor wait a few moments outside the door, then follow her inside.

Not one to be left out, Bucky adjusts himself in the hallway at  _ just _ the right angle to peer in through the door without being seen, to keep an eye on them both. 

And then, he waits.

* * *

If Shuri is surprised to hear sudden footsteps approaching behind her, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she turns away slowly from the bookshelf she’d been admiring to see who the intruder is. And when she recognizes him, there’s a look on her face Bucky can’t quite place, before she simply asks:

“Did you follow me?”

“Maybe.” Namor’s voice comes out in his usual, arrogant lilt. But he pauses, and his next words out come sounding  _ far _ more sincere -- “ Mostly though, I just wanted to get away from the party.”

Shuri looks vaguely amused at that, and Bucky can’t help but share the sentiment. If there’s anyone on the planet practically  _ made _ for parties like these, it’s Namor. Hands down.

“What’s wrong with the party? You don’t like Geneva?” she quips.

Namor shakes his head.

“Atlantis is  _ far _ more beautiful. You should come see it sometime.”

A pause, and then he speaks again, a little more softly:

“You look  _ sad _ , princess.”

Bucky isn’t even sure  _ who _ he’s watching, anymore. This is certainly not the Namor he is familiar with. 

It doesn’t go unnoticed from Shuri, either. She laughs, but the noise comes out more half-hearted than anything else, and her next words are  _ biting _ \-- 

“Don’t worry about me. Just tell me -- what do you  **want** , Namor?”

He remains totally unfazed. “From you, princess? The  _ truth _ .”

Shuri sighs dejectedly at that, and he can see her deflate a little. “Ask me for anything else.”

Namor steps closer,  _ too _ close, and Bucky tenses, in spite of himself. “I cannot.”

She frowns, and he can already sense the simmering frustration radiating off of her.

“The treaty has been signed. The war is  **over** . Surely, your business with me can be considered done.”

“You  _ know _ that’s not why I’m here.” he murmurs. “We have some unfinished business, princess.”

Bucky sees something like realization dawn on her face. She draws closer to him, now.

“Is this about what happened in the study? Because I can assure you, that was a  _ one-time _ mistake.”

Namor smirks. “Tell yourself whatever you’d like. But I know the truth, Shuri.”

“And what’s that?” she challenges.

It’s Namor’s  _ next _ words that hit Bucky like a shockwave:

“You _ liked it. _ You liked it, when I kissed you. Because you kissed me back, too. ” 

Bucky needs a moment. Or a few.

What. The.  _ Hell _ . 

The bastard had  _ kissed _ her? Suddenly, all the lascivious looks he’d ever given her made  _ sense _ . The weird...  _ tension _ between the two of them.

How could he have not  _ known _ ?

He’s so busy reeling over this new information that he nearly misses what Namor says next -- 

“I know one other thing, too -- the man you long for will  _ never _ be yours, Shuri. Leave him in the past. I can show you what it’s like, to be  _ truly _ wanted. Not him.”

The man she longs for? Bucky feels the same biting, venomous jealousy he’d felt earlier. 

Who the  _ hell _ was that?

Bast, he’d been so lost in his  _ own _ feelings, his  _ own _ emotions -- did he even  _ know _ the princess at all? 

_ Or _ what she wanted?

Shuri’s lips press into a thin line. Bucky’s seen the face enough times to know -- she’s  _ livid _ .

“You don’t know the first  _ damn _ thing about him, Namor. Or me, in fact. So just leave it.”

Namor doesn’t let up. Of course, he doesn’t. Bucky knows him well enough by now to know that he’s just preparing to  _ attack _ , instead.

“Did you wear this dress just for him?” Namor murmurs, so low it’s almost inaudible. “A real  _ pity _ he didn’t notice. It looks simply  _ divine _ on you.” There’s some gloating mixed with the compliment there, and it’s just enough to set him on edge.

“ _ Enough _ .” Shuri looks  _ furious _ , tiny frame practically shaking with rage. She steps closer to him, all but a breath away from him now, eyes flashing with righteous anger.

“I’ll say this one time, Namor: I have  **no** feelings for him. So  _ quit _ it.” 

“Okay.” Namor doesn’t look intimidated in the slightest. “You  _ say _ that you have no feelings for him.”

The king leans close. Whispers in her ear,  _ low _ , but he can still catch the words -- 

“ _ Prove it. _ ”

Bucky’s not even  _ remotely _ prepared for what he sees next.

In one sharp, quick motion, Shuri grabs him by his collar, pulls him down, and kisses him.  _ Hard _ .

If Namor’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. No, instead he leans into it, wraps an arm around her waist in a way that makes Bucky feel suddenly ill.

He  _ shouldn’t _ be seeing this, honestly. He  _ knows _ that. 

But it’s as if he’s suddenly rooted to the floor where he stands. Like he couldn’t move, even if he  _ wanted _ to. The shock is simply too much.

It was one thing to  _ hear _ that Namor had kissed her. It was another thing  _ entirely _ to watch it happen in front of him. To watch him tug her closer still, turn his head to change the angle of the kiss, all heat and adrenaline and boiling tension.

He hates it.  _ God _ , he hates it. He wants to throttle Namor, for even daring to lay a finger on the princess. 

But mostly, Bucky hates himself for wishing it was  _ his _ lips, pressed up frantically against hers. The desire fills him, consumes him, practically choking him where he stands.

It ends quickly, at least, and he finds that he’s grateful for that small mercy.

Shuri  _ finally _ pulls away, all but pushes herself off him, and it doesn’t escape him that she’s breathing hard. Something painful in his chest twists, again.

“ _ There _ .” she manages. “Are you satisfied?”

Namor’s eyes are dark. He draws to whisper in her ear, but Bucky still catches his words --

"With just that?  _ Never _ ." 

It looks, for a brief moment, like Shuri wants to pull back. Or perhaps, Bucky simply imagines it.

But then Namor’s leaning in again to meet her lips, and she meets him halfway. He kisses her roughly, steals a stifled gasp from her lips, one that quickly turns into a moan as he pushes her back up against the bookshelf, the full weight of his body pressed up against hers. 

Bucky’s blood is  _ boiling _ . He needs to  _ leave _ , now. Preferably, before he makes a  _ big fucking mistake. _

And yet, he can’t. Because that should be  _ him _ . 

That should be him, and yet it can  _ never _ be. To do so would be an unspeakable betrayal, and this is the retribution he must pay for his transgressions of thought. 

Sinners never get a free pass, and he’s had a lifetime of that. But this is far worse than any torture HYDRA could have made him endure.

The trauma response is to stand still and _ take it _ . So that’s  _ exactly _ what he does.

He just stands there. Watches them together, until Namor finally breaks away to breathe a heated confession against her lips -- 

“You have no idea what I’d  **_do_ ** for you.” 

It sends a shock down his spine, because those are words he’s wanted to say to the princess since the  _ moment _ she’d brought him back to life. It seems  _ unbearably _ cruel, to hear someone else say them first.

But nothing about this is what he thought it was, is it? No, she’s in  _ love _ with someone else, and  _ kissing _ someone else, and it’s all ... it’s all too damn  _ much _ for him to bear. 

His thoughts are broken by Shuri’s next words, which come out low and the tiniest bit strangled -- 

"Namor...  _ I  _ ..." 

Whatever she was about to say, Bucky never finds out. Because of course, it’s at that exact instant that both of their kimoyo beads go off with identical, distinctive chimes.  _ Fuck _ .

She taps hers off. Untangles herself from him, instantly. 

“There’s another one nearby.” she whispers. “ Where  _ is it _ ?”

If he doesn’t come up with a good story or get the absolute fuck out of here  _ right now _ , Bucky is about to find himself in a horrible situation in approximately ten seconds. 

So naturally, he decides to out himself. Of  _ course _ .

Bucky steps into the fray, tapping off the kimoyo bead notification, hands up. “Sorry to interrupt.” he mutters, as flatly as he can manage. “Was just passing by.”

Shuri looks mortified. Namor looks completely unapologetic.  _ Gloating _ , even. Bucky resists the urge to punch the smirk off his face.

This was definitely a horrible idea.  _ What now _ ?

“I’ll leave, if now is a bad time.” he offers, grasping at straws.

Namor interrupts before he can say anything more awkward.

“No, go ahead, Soldier. I’ll just be on my way out.”

The words come out cool, unaffected, but Namor is searching his face closely. For  _ what _ ?

Whatever it is -- and Bucky thinks he  _ knows _ what it is -- he finds it. 

Namor smirks, then turns and kisses Shuri again. It’s brief, but it still makes his fists curl.

When he pulls away, he leans in and whispers something in her ear. Inaudible to most people, but Bucky wasn’t an enhanced soldier for nothing, as it were.

"Meet me in an hour if you change your mind. Same place." are the words he whispers to her. 

Bucky’s heart sinks.  _ Absolutely not. _

Shuri swallows nervously. Pushes him away, but he looks unbothered. Shoots Bucky one last gloating, all-too-knowing look, before he heads out.

They turn and watch him leave together. The moment stretches for an eternity. 

Confronting what just happened, head-on -- it feels painful, taut, like someone’s plucking at his heartstrings. He doesn’t want to broach the topic. Not even a little.

Shuri turns to him, then. She looks  _ terrified _ .

(Because of  **him** ? No. He can’t fathom that.)

“Bucky, I can  _ explain _ \-- “

“You don’t have to, princess.” 

He cuts her off, because he can’t have this conversation. Not now. Maybe not  _ ever _ .

And he hopes to  _ God _ she can’t sense the way this is tearing him apart. Or how badly he wants to rip Namor in half. Which he just might do, later on, peace treaty be damned.

“I’ll keep your secret.” he murmurs, _ just like I keep all of mine _ .

It’s not ideal. In fact, he's pretty sure that it'll eat him alive.

But he'd take all that and more for her. In a heartbeat, his own selfishness be damned.

She nods, and then it's silent. _Too_ silent.

It feels like something's broken, between them. This promise, the last faint string, holding them together.

So as much as this secret hurts -- for now, it should be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment! We're in rarepair hell, folks. I need all the encouragement I can get.


	3. tremors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shuri takes up Namor on his offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Oh, this is SO self serving. But I don’t care, this is my story so I can write whatever I want xD. Let’s get into it, babes.

Shuri  _ hates _ Namor.

Hates his stupid, handsome face. His cocky, devil-may-care attitude. 

Hates his unbothered arrogance even in the face of international dignitaries, a luxury she could only ever  _ dream _ of.

Hates that his mouth on hers still made her weak in the knees,  _ exactly _ like it had the first time. That he kissed her again, in front of  _ Bucky _ , no less, in a way that made her feel like a traitor in a million ways and then some. 

Hates that  _ despite _ all that -- she can’t stop thinking about him. Or his offer.

* * *

It’s been forty five minutes since the whole debacle. 

Shuri can’t stay in her room any longer. The walls feel like they’re closing in. If she thinks about what happened, or the look on Bucky’s  _ face  _ any longer, she just might lose it. 

And what a sight  _ that _ would be. 

She turns to her personal guard. The one, she can trust, above all others --

“Khethiwe -- if  _ anyone _ asks, I’m resting because I have a headache, and I will not be seeing anyone at the moment. Got it?”

The Dora nods coolly. “Of course, Princess.”

“ **_Good_ ** .” Shuri turns, then. Gathers a few more things. For... her own protection.

Khethiwe is trustworthy. She  _ knows _ that. 

But Shuri can’t shake the feeling of uneasiness in her stomach, anyways. 

Like she’s hurtling, face-first, into a huge mistake. And like there’s nothing she can do to stop it.

* * *

_ Meet me here in an hour _ , he’d said.  _ Same place. _

She’s back in the library, with just three minutes left until their meeting time. Not even  _ knowing _ , truly, if he’ll turn up at all. 

Perhaps it would be better that way, she supposes. She needs a reason to cut off ties with him for good. That  _ might _ as well happen. She’d hardly care if he didn’t turn up.

(But she’s lying to herself, and she knows it.)

Shuri takes her precautions, regardless. She pulls the chip she’d snagged from her room just before leaving. It’s her latest security prototype: a remote anti-surveillance bug that wipes audio and video data being recorded from any devices in a 300 foot radius, while also effectively soundproofing the room from the outside. 

Hell, it might be overkill. Even for her.

But you know. Just in case.

Shuri affixes it to the door. The device beeps, turns blue, and then it’s on. 

She faces away from the door, now. Steps forward and scans the bookshelf in front of her aimlessly, eyes not really  _ reading _ what she sees.

And now, to wait.

_ One minute left. _

She swallows, mouth dry, and hopes for the best.

* * *

Shuri  _ hears _ him before she sees him.

Hears him breath deeply before coming in.

Hears him quickly lock the door behind them, neatly snap it shut. 

Hears him get closer, now, his shoes clicking smoothly across the wooden floor, until he’s scarcely a breath away.

_ Still _ . She refuses to turn around to look at him. She won’t give him that satisfaction.

His body lines up behind hers, anyways. Waiting.  _ Expectant _ . 

The calm before the storm.

Namor speaks first.

“I’m surprised you’re even here, princess.”

His voice comes out low and smooth, like waves against a shore.

Shuri lets the words wash over her. Shakes her head. 

“I tried to reason myself out of it.” she offers half-heartedly. “I know you’re no good for me.”

He hums in agreement. “So what brought you here, then?”

A fair enough question.

What force, beyond her seeming reason or control, brought her to him?

And in an instant, she knows the answer. As much as she hates it.

“ **_Instinct_ ** .” she murmurs, the admission so soft it’s practically a whisper. 

Because she  _ knows _ \-- she’s lying. It’s  _ not _ just instinct. 

It’s _ selfishness _ . 

She could end it all here. She  _ should _ . But she  _ has _ to know, just once. If this is worth burning everything down.

And that’s enough.

Enough for her to steel herself, calm her fast-beating heart before her next words -- 

“You said you could show me what it’s like to be desired. So  **_show me_ ** .”

She hears him inhale sharply, draw closer. 

Inexplicably, she braces herself against his impending touch.

The action doesn’t go unnoticed. 

Namor lets one hand settle on her elbow. Completely non-threatening, but the simple touch still sets her cheeks ablaze, sets her heartbeat racing out of her chest once again. 

_ Bast _ . She’s terrified. Of his effect on her. How is this even  _ possible _ ?

“Do you trust me?” he murmurs, and the words, for whatever other intentions they come laced with, come out deadly serious.

She scoffs. Swallows down the sudden, rising nervousness in her stomach with a sudden burst of fearlessness.

“Absolutely  _ not _ .” she deadpans, face straightening into a familiar facade again.

It’s her default answer, around him. Shuri can’t see his face fully, but she’s  _ sure _ he smirks, like it’s the answer he expected all along. It should annoy her, but instead, she can feel something warm in her chest.  _ Lower _ .

“ _ Humor me, _ your Highness.” he murmurs, and then, more seriously: “I want to  _ earn _ your trust, princess.”

She huffs. “Fine. I trust you.”

“Good.” He leans in then, to whisper a command in her ear -- "Close your eyes."

She'd be  _ crazy _ to close her eyes on him. But she does. 

“ **Excellent** .” The words are low and sultry, his breath warm on her cheek. “Now, let’s begin.”

His hands find the back of her neck, and he slowly starts to unzip her dress. 

Pulls it down, down,  _ down _ , past her neck, her shoulders, her waist. 

Shuri shivers as the cool air of the room hits her skin. As the realization hits her that yeah, this is definitely happening.  _ Whatever _ this is.

And she half-expects him to pull the zip all the way down, take the dress off entirely, but that’s when her thoughts are broken by the sensation of his mouth on her lower back. 

_ Oh _ .

Namor kisses slowly,  _ deliberately _ up her spine. 

He takes his time with it, like he’s in no rush at all. Like it’s just the two of them and they’ve got all the time in the world, responsibilities outside of this room be damned. 

It doesn’t help, certainly, that each spot where his mouth meets her skin feels nothing less than  _ electric _ . That the gentleness of the motion is directly contradicted by the sensation of his hands on her waist, rough and firm and grounding, even as he threatens to knock her off balance and then some.

At last, he makes his way up to the curve of her neck.

Shuri feels dizzy, untethered.  _ Drunk _ , somehow, and more vulnerable than she's  _ ever _ been. 

But in his arms, she feels oddly...  _ safe _ . 

Namor eventually finds his way to a particularly sensitive crevice of her neck. As if by instinct, her head lolls back and then she just gasps, one hand around him for support while she floats in euphoria. 

He’s a goddamn  _ tease _ . She can’t take it anymore.

As if he’s heard her thoughts, one hand comes up, and then he’s got his hand on her throat. 

Shuri’s sure he can feel the way her pulse is beating out of control, how truly well and far beyond  _ gone _ she is, now.

He’s close, so close that she can feel his breath on her lips.

And that’s when he whispers his next words, so plain and yet so  _ aching _ that it takes her aback:

“You have no idea how long I  _ dreamed _ of this, princess.”

And if she’d had a response to his words he steals it away at once, tips her head back and kisses her.

His mouth on hers -- it’s surprisingly gentle. Sweet. Teasing, even.

And yet. It’s not  _ enough _ .

Maybe this is her letting him win. But after the way he’s wound her up, and for all her damn trouble -- she wants  _ more _ .

Shuri turns her head and kisses him back, but there’s something more keening, more desperate there. It’s sloppy and inelegant but she doesn’t  _ care _ , she just claws at him, pulls him closer, closer,  _ closer _ . Because she  _ wants _ him, and if he doesn’t give her what she wants  _ right now  _ she just might scream.

He groans into her mouth before he pins her wrists up against the bookshelf, restraining not just her, she realizes, but himself too. 

And she’s aware, for the first time, of the sheer  _ physicality _ of it all. Of his body weight pressed up against hers, the way their perfumes mix into a more base concoction, some heady combination of musk and sweat and hot breath. The way they fit so perfectly it feels like a sin.

And she thinks about what he’d said, about instincts. Because she  _ knows _ , now. 

She knows  _ exactly _ what he’d been talking about, because for the first time in her life, she follows them without reservation. So she pushes back, grinds into him, the heat in her core building. 

He groans at her movements, clearly aware of what she’s doing, but he rewards her for it. Wraps an arm around her to pull her close, deepens their kiss until it's something hot and rough and  _ filthy _ . 

There's no clean resolution here for them. Shuri  _ knows _ that. 

But it's a struggle they willingly play out anyways, with mouths and moans and movement, his hands digging into her hips now and guiding her up against him. Whatever they can get. 

He needs to be closer, she thinks, inexplicably.  _ Closer _ .

At last, he breaks away from her. Moves back, and fumbles with his zipper. 

And just like that, Shuri snaps out of her lust-induced haze. Finally comes to her  _ fucking _ senses.

“Not -- not here.” she gasps. “Not now.”

And she slumps forward, just a bit, as her tiredness suddenly catches up with her, along with her last bits of sanity --  _ what the hell? _

She’d  _ wanted _ this just moments ago.  _ Right? _

Before she can think about it too much, Namor cuts her off.

“You’re right. It shouldn’t be here,” he agrees, and well, he’s got part of it.

He leans down and kisses her cheek. Gently tugs her so she’s facing him, now, even as she evades his gaze.

Shuri can’t hide from him. Not here. Not anywhere.

But whatever she’s hiding -- and she’s still trying to figure out  _ what _ \-- he can’t see it.

“ _ Hey _ .” He tips her chin up, so she has to look at him, and she’s suddenly keenly aware of just how hard she’s breathing. 

Shuri tries her best to recenter, but it’s hard when he’s looking at her like  _ that _ .

Like despite the circumstances, and despite her sudden decision to cut things short -- that he doesn’t regret a damn  _ thing _ .

He leans close again. Rasps out his next words -- 

“Wait to hear from me, princess.” and then, a question: “When I call for you next, will you come?”

She wants it.  _ Bast _ , against all her better sense, she wants this. 

So why does it still feel so out of reach?

Namor looks at her, clearly waiting for her response, but suddenly there’s an edge there. And for the first time, under the dark intensity of his stare, she has to suppress a sudden shiver. Wonders, for a moment, what might happen if she were to say  _ no _ .

“ _ Yes _ ,” she murmurs, and whatever she’d seen in his eye flickers away.

He smiles, at that. A small victory. One of  _ many _ against her, she figures.

Namor steps into her space again. Edges closer,  _ closer _ , until her back is against the shelf and he’s just a breath away. 

She regards him closely, seeing him for the first time since she’d come here. The want and desire and  _ danger _ written all over his beautiful, terrible face.

“Until  _ then _ , princess.” he whispers, and it feels like a vow.

And then his mouth is pressed hotly against her own and all thoughts of consequence are a million miles away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my last update, guys. Leave comments and feel free to take the Namor/Shuri ship from here if/as you so please ;) Time to work on my other WIPs like I said I would ;) Also, join me for a WIP challenge. See my @ on tumblr for details.
> 
> Love and cheers xx 

**Author's Note:**

> This was super fun and indulgent to write. I'm trash for Namor/Shuri and the friends-to-enemies-to-lovers-back-to-enemies trope was mad fun to write.
> 
> Gimme some comments please! This was in my drafts at 95% completion for WEEKS so a girl could use some motivation. Much love always <3 Also, say hi on my Tumblr. Thanks!


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